Harry Potter : Chapter 50: Effects I

The nonverbal levicorpus lifted the first student before he had the time to fully understand what was going on, a friend of his appeared from another alcove while I twirled on myself and my wrist moved with a corkscrew pattern: "Expelliarmus!"

The red bolt of the spell streaked across the corridor and shone upon the surprised face of my target just before impacting against his mid-section.

Caught on the backfoot, the remaining two students floundered for a reaction, and for a second, I left the here and now behind: I remembered the thrumming exaltation that rang through me when I lit a golden flame to attract the werewolves in the french countryside, and the deep need for the shield I had transfigured out of wood while my heart hammered in my chest.

Powered by my need and underlying understanding of the magic involved, my shield charm took shape in a bubble around me: it stood like a translucent outline, separating me from the rest of the corridor. Ineffective spells impacted against my shield without managing to even make it waver.

I felt each of them almost like sparks of unexpected tastes on my tongue, like minute needles impacting my skin without causing any damage.

Behind my protection, I ignored a plethora of jinxes and standard dueling charms while I rose my wand once again: three silent levicorpus and a stunning charm later, I was left facing the last of this quartet of idiots, who had long since fallen into a frenzied panic in witnessing a defense that allowed me complete freedom of movement.

In my mind, the sturdiness of the shield didn't waver: the principle behind it had been used against werewolves, it was the same push without name that I had used to tear one of those off my back. How could a mere student hope to overwhelm it?

I stunned the first student I had upended and the one I had disarmed without bothering focusing on their features: I had recognized the little leader of this group.

Smarter than the other, he was the last one standing, not that it was going to help him any. I was so beyond any regular student that it wasn't even funny.

How could they, who limited themselves to waving wands and shouting nonsense, prevail upon a half-giant that constantly challenged any preconception, who had delved deeper and deeper into the underlying, implicit principles of magic?

My expelliarmus impacted the hastily erected shield of my remaining opponent just as I stabbed forward with my wand in the final movement of the stunning charm: the red bolt of magic shattered the defense of my opponent in time for me to slip the always useful non-verbal levicorpus.

I left the bubble-shaped shield charm behind as I approached the only conscious attacker that remained, and I was about to stun him too, excitement bubbling in my veins, when I stopped.

I didn't even try to get out of this with words. I grimaced inwardly as I observed the scared kid that flailed aimlessly in the hold of my levicorpus and I knelt to retrieve the wands of the idiots that thought coming after me was a good idea.

Hadn't I proved in my first year that I should be left alone? Slytherin students were the most likely to have a bone to pick with me, being so massively different from them, it was only to be expected that my uncaring attitude would engineer resentment. 

One Slytherin, one Griffindor, two Hufflepuffs: it'd be a good example of inter-house collaboration if not for the context.

"Why would you think that attacking me could end in any way but this?" in class, I never bothered hiding my skill in the practical execution of spells, besides, performing them to the best of my ability more often than not prevented me from having to deal with the more intense homework that the professor felt would help those struggling with achieving success.

Given that I was still pissed, and partly at myself, I stared in the eyes of the upside-down kid in front of me: I had almost religiously practiced Occlumency exercises since I awoke in Hagrid's body, to the point that clearing my mind was the first step for any magic that I tried to execute without incantation or wand movement.

But this particular branch of magic was simply one side of the coin: it boiled down to awareness of the self, versus awareness of another.

Once again, the there and then were left behind for an instant of nothingness while the feeling of reaching forward was matched with the quiet stealth of the shadows that I was so familiar with: and for a brief instant, I was the breath drawing into the boy's lungs, the light entering the scared wide pupil of his eyes.

"Stupefy." the kid hung limply in the air after my stunning charm impacted him, my excitement for the fight, which had turned into partial disbelief at my actions, was souring into a stab of deep-seethed annoyance.

I freed the two students levitating in the air and dragged them all against one side of the corridor without thinking about it: my mind was focused on the image of dark hair, smooth hair, and fair features of one Tom Riddle. Of course, he'd be involved.

Noticing the hour, I strode purposefully towards my meeting with Black, a quiet rage simmering in my chest as I loosened my tie and shed my outer robes: maybe my previous warming charm had been a bit too strong, maybe the brief fight caused it, but deep down I knew that it was indecision that bit at me.

The mind exerts Will, the body has Strength, magic holds Power, and the soul is a reflection of them all. I didn't know if Tom had divined it on his own, had already managed to access some forbidden knowledge, or even found the Chamber.

With that thought, my free hand distractedly touched the thumb-sized, transfigured wooden rooster that remained quiet in my pocket: I had a contingency more or less ready for that situation, but that wasn't my main problem.

Riddle is dangerous. I did not know if casual camaraderie that I engineered to exploit him was only skin-deep, I didn't know if he simply pretended in all of his interactions with me, or if I had managed to get to him before Voldemort rooted itself in his soul.

I had allowed myself to forget just what he could become: maybe blinded by the regular, insightful help that I extracted from him, I hadn't yet attempted to kill him.

And now I had just been attacked by four students, four children, that thought their only way to feel adequate was by putting down someone different than them.

Hadn't I noticed the absolute cleverness of Tom when we discussed the history of the Magical World? Didn't I worry about how powerful he could become if I left him alone?

Now we have it: four kids turned unreasonably violent because they cannot hope to be anything but shadows in the service of a higher being. 

Riddle had carefully avoided to be directly linked with those students, I knew that there would be no proof whatsoever linking the attack on me with Tom, Hell, maybe he didn't even intend for them to target me.

I ducked under a tapestry and kept power-walking, hoping to calm down before reaching my destination: "He's just so fucking useful."

The real problem wasn't his growing influence or power, the problem wasn't my casual decision to resort to violence.

The problem was that even now, the only thing that came to mind when I imagined a world without Riddle -ignoring the issue of how I'd actually go about killing him- was that I'd lose his insight, and I could only focus on how that would stymie my own growth.

I abandoned my musings only once I reached the door of the empty classroom where I was to meet with the student I was meant to tutor, and I resorted to Occlumency to push aside my self-doubt and recrimination.

I wouldn't cater to the whims of the Black Heir, but Slughorn hadn't been wrong in pointing out how helpful a friendship with him could be, and the prefect-to-be hadn't erred in underlying the eventual need for money of many of my projects.

I had some ideas to make that money: simple knowledge of Microsoft and Apple's existence, as well as the economic mess that 2008 would turn out to be, was enough to guarantee me a massive amount of capital, eventually.

The problem was that I'd need the money sooner rather than later, and of course, every minute spent on making that money would be a minute stolen from my higher pursuit of Magic.

...

If you like the story so far, please throw some power stones, since it's like a fresh start.

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